


Little Butterfly

by Boogum



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Gabriel Agreste has no rights, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, because i saw buggachat's art and i knew i had to write this, ladrien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23325328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boogum/pseuds/Boogum
Summary: Adrien Agreste has had enough. Too bad the akuma sensed it as well.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 54
Kudos: 339





	Little Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buggachat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buggachat/gifts).



> I was inspired by Buggachat's [ladrien art](https://buggachat.tumblr.com/post/181727174368/the-ladrien-i-always-wanted-so-i-decided-to-draw), so I decided to write a little something based on it.

"Of course," Adrien said, holding the phone to his ear. "I understand."

He hung up. There was a dull ringing in his ears. Sluggish, heavy. His hands didn't quite feel like his own, yet those were definitely his fingers that tightened around the phone, too tight to be calm. If he'd been transformed, the screen would have cracked.

Piano playing drifted to his ears—other contestants trying to get in a quick practice before the competition started. His heart quickened and the dull ringing turned into a dizzying roar, muffling everything so that it was like his head was underwater.

"Adrien?" Plagg emerged from his inner shirt pocket.

It was hard for Adrien to unstick his tongue. Even harder to make words. A lump formed in his throat, choking like a stuck marble. His eyes prickled and burned.

"Father is busy," he said hollowly.

Plagg sighed in a way that was getting far too familiar. "I'm sorry. Maybe next time he'll—"

"He couldn't even tell me himself. Nathalie had to do it."

"Isn't that how it always is?"

The stinging in Adrien's eyes got worse. He blinked back the moisture that threatened to slip free.

"Ah, kid, I didn't mean to—I'm sure your dad is—"

"No, you're right." He forced a smile, though it was like unsmoothed glass, ready to crack at the slightest touch. "It's always Nathalie. I can't even remember the last time I spoke to Father. It was stupid to think he'd be here for me today."

"Kid …"

Adrien shoved his phone in his pocket with a shaking hand and marched for the backdoor exit.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Out."

Plagg zipped in front of him. "Doesn't the competition start soon?"

"I don't care."

Adrien stepped around him and shoved the door open. Sunlight hit his stinging eyes. There was no hesitation as he placed his foot onto the carpark. No desire to look back as he moved farther and farther from the concert hall, even if his heart did drum a pulsating, sickening beat through his bones.

"Adrien, I know you're upset, but—"

"I'm fine."

But he wasn't. This wasn't a discovery of liberation, not like when he transformed into Chat Noir and slipped out his window. This was cloying fire trapped in his veins. It was a scream pressing at his ribs, the crescent prints digging into his palms. It was wet slick and hot on his cheeks, and it _hurt_.

"Kid, you gotta calm down," Plagg said, landing on his shoulder. "How about some cheese?"

"I don't want—"

"Adrien!"

That sounded like Marinette.

Plagg vanished into his usual hiding spot. Adrien glanced over his shoulder, only to freeze as he found an akuma inches from his face, all fluttering, delicate evil. His eyes widened, his heart pounded faster and faster. Then a yoyo snapped the akuma up, whipping it away from him and into Ladybug's hand.

All the strength left Adrien's legs. He wobbled and collapsed, taking shaky breaths. So close. It had come so close.

"Bye bye, little butterfly," Ladybug said, and released the butterfly into the air. It was no longer bruised black and purple but purified into the colour of fresh snow.

He swallowed, tears prickling his eyes. He was too shaken to do anything but stare.

"Are you okay?" she asked, coming closer and holding out her hand to help him up.

"I …"

He didn't know what to say. The lump was so much bigger in his throat now, and his heart wouldn't stop pounding. It drummed out every thought except one: he'd almost been akumatised. If Ladybug hadn't been there, he'd probably be trying to steal her miraculous right now. Who knew what he would have done with his own …

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

He gripped his upper arm, lowering his gaze. "I'm sorry."

"What have you got to be sorry for?"

A tremor passed through him, and he huddled more into himself. "Because I … I almost …" His breathing hitched. The tears that had clung to his eyelashes spilled down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I should have tried harder to control my emotions. I should have—"

"Oh, Adrien, no." Her arms came around him, warm and secure. "You don't have to apologise for having feelings. Everyone gets upset sometimes. It's Hawkmoth who's to blame, not you."

He sniffed.

"It's true," she said, perhaps doubting that he believed her. "Whatever made you this upset, I'm sure it was a valid reason."

More tears rolled down his cheeks, dripping onto her suit. "I just wanted him to be there," he whispered, almost as if he was afraid someone would overhear. "That's it. Just one time would have been enough."

"Who?"

"Father."

She sucked in a breath, her arms tightening around him, but then footsteps and voices sounded. He stiffened. If those people saw him, especially if they were fans, soon it would be plastered all over Paris that Adrien Agreste had been crying in Ladybug's arms. That was the last thing he needed.

"Hey," she said, pulling back to meet his gaze. "You wanna get out of here?"

He nodded gratefully.

She smiled and scooped him up into her arms. "Come on then."

oOo

Ladybug took him to one of his favourite rooftops, not that she knew that. His throat still felt raw and his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, but she sat close to him—close enough for their knees and arms to bump. Close enough that he could lean into her and rest his head on her shoulder, at least if he dared.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" she asked gently.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's stupid."

"I'm sure it's not."

His gaze lowered to his hands. Pianist hands. That's what Mum had called them. Pianist hands for her little pianist. She'd sat on the stool, and he'd sat on her lap, resting his feet on hers so he could help her with the pedals. They used to play so many songs together …

Fresh tears formed, blurring his vision.

"Adrien." Her hand came to rest on his own. "I'm not going to judge, you know."

"It's just …" His voice quavered and his fingers curled into his palms. "Th-there was a piano competition today."

She squeezed his hand, a silent gesture for him to continue.

"I pr-practiced so much. My friends made all these plans, but I … Father said I should focus on the competition." Tears traced the dried trails on his cheeks. "So I did. I did everything he wanted, but he didn't come." His voice hollowed. "He never comes."

"I'm sorry."

He scrunched his eyes shut. "I feel so stupid. This happens all the time, but it … it just got to me today because …"

"Because what?"

"If he really cared, if this competition really mattered so much to him, don't you think he should have made time for it? Made time for me?"

She went quiet, though her hand remained a warm anchor, reminding him she was there and listening. There were so many things he could have said as well, so many frustrations he wanted to express. The scheduled dinner appointments, as if he was just an employee who happened to share the same house and therefore could be just as easily dismissed. The fact his father never asked him how he was. The constant pressure to succeed, to not embarrass the _Gabriel_ brand. Even the piano, the instrument Adrien loved, felt more like a boulder that he had been chained to. Endless practices, endless songs he had to learn, not because he wanted to, no. It was always because one mistake could mean losing a competition.

Mum had loved to do duets with him. She'd played the chords while he made up melodies, improvising as needed. She hadn't cared if the songs wouldn't help him win medals. All she'd wanted was to see him laugh.

"Can I be honest?" Adrien whispered.

"Of course."

"Sometimes I wish he was the one who got sick."

The words were said so softly, like a dirty little secret he had never wanted to share. But they were out, and they were true. He wished it had been Mum who had stayed. He wished his father was the one who had got ill and went away forever. At least Mum had never made him doubt that she loved him.

Wordlessly, Ladybug wrapped her arms around him. He couldn't help but crumple into her hold. This was what he needed, what he had not dared to ask for.

"I'm sorry, Adrien," she murmured, running her hand along his back in a soothing gesture. "I'm so, so sorry."

He clung to her like a kitten trying not to drown, all soft claws and desperation. There was no way he could hold back. Not now. Not when she was offering him this moment to just _feel_ , no akuma guaranteed. So he let the restraints snap free, let it all spill out: the anger, sadness and hurt. The loneliness of a boy who just wanted his father to show him that he mattered.

And she embraced it all.

"Thank you, Ladybug," he breathed into her shoulder, once he'd calm down. "I … I really needed that."

Something brushed against his hair. Her lips? It was hard to say, and he was too exhausted to think about it further.

"Of course," she said softly. "I'll always be here for you, Adrien."


End file.
